Dunwich Manor
by Dan Sickles
Summary: A modern college girl interested in the Puritan witch trials journeys to a forgotten corner of New England for academic research. What she discovers is evil beyond imagination! Rated T for gruesome horror and some romance.
1. Chapter 1

DUNWICH MANOR

_This is a Lovecraft-type horror story about family ties and crime. Please comment nicely!_

CHAPTER ONE: VISITORS

"Ah, here we are. Wake up, Julia. Welcome to Dunwich Manor!"

"Huh?" Julia Tyler sat up in the passenger seat of Professor Henrietta Bradford's small sedan, rubbing her eyes and yawning. The drive from Boston had taken more than three hours, with the New England landscape growing ever more barren and desolate. Gloomy tales of Puritan days had flitted through Julia's drowsy thoughts, with every gnarled tree and rocky outcrop seeming to embody the lingering presence of ancient evil. Back in Boston, it had been exciting to be chosen as a research assistant for Professor Bradford's next book. But as she stepped out of the car, the slim, long-legged college girl felt a shiver of chill foreboding.

"Looks rather forbidding, doesn't it? Those high towers and turrets give it a dark and menacing air. Dunwich Manor was originally built in 1673. But don't worry, the interior is completely modern."

"I hope it's not too modern! Will we see the collection right away?" Julia knew that the Dunwich Collection was part of a large family library, full of rare and age-yellowed manuscripts describing the terror of the local witch trials and the strange events that followed.

"Let's meet the family first, shall we?" Professor Bradford put her beefy arm around the raven-haired girl's slender waist, guiding her up the gravel path. "We'll pay our respects and then have something hot to drink, before we discuss the details of our visit."

"It's certainly nice of them to invite us to stay." Julia was grateful for the promise of refreshments. She was famished after the long trip, hungry as well as thirsty, but she felt very nervous about meeting the Dunwich family. During the drive up, the imaginative college girl had pictured them in Puritan attire, their stern cruel faces full of displeasure, frowning at her short skirt and high heels. In her dreams Julia had imagined herself being dragged in chains before the Dunwich clan, a young witch facing judgment.

And now she was going to meet them for real.

"Looking for a good time, baby doll?" The young workman loomed up out of the shadows, his enormous hands still gripping a shovel. For some reason Julia imagined he'd been digging a grave.

"I'd rather be reading a good book," Julia said sweetly. Her cool comeback didn't quite come off because her cheeks were red hot.

"Mrs. Dunwich is expecting us," Professor Bradford said, her crisp voice putting the annoying loser in his place even as she gave Julia a quick pat on the behind. "Please tell her we've arrived."

"Yes, ma'am!" Instead of trying more sarcasm on blushing Julia, the tall, broad-shouldered young man actually bowed to the plump and short but very distinguished-looking lady professor.

"Well, at least that guy isn't afraid of the family curse!" Julia tried to laugh as the two of them entered the darkened house, drawn towards the promise of comfort suggested by the glow of a fire.

"Ah, there you are!" The well-dressed old woman sitting by the fire was confined to a wheelchair, but her eyes were bright and alert. She held out her small, wrinkled hands to the two strangers.

"Julia, this is Mrs. Dunwich, the head of the family." Professor Bradford smiled as Julia bent down to take the old woman's hand.

"It's very kind of you to invite us into your home," Julia said, her voice a bit husky. She had never been around rich people before. Mrs. Dunwich wore a thick double strand of glowing pearls around her neck. Her small wrinkled hands were covered with diamonds.

"Nonsense, my dear." The old woman patted Julia's cheek. "We never see any new faces around here. It's like living in a tomb! Having a fresh-faced girl like you as a guest is a real pleasure."

"That's right, Aunt Caroline. A girl like Julia could be a real shot in the arm for all of us." A bald and slightly built but very dapper little man flashed Julia a winning smile from the other side of the fire.

"Julia, this is my nephew, Dr. Benjamin Dunwich Carlson. He's an expert on aging and family-related ailments, as well as being my personal physician."

"Dr. Carlson, how do you do," Julia breathed, feeling rather intimidated by the cultured and sophisticated-looking older man.

"Call me Ben, my dear. This is a mansion, not a morgue!" Dr. Carlson laughed softly, and then kissed Julia's hand in a sophisticated way that made her forget his strange and macabre sense of humor. Dunwich Manor was a fascinating place!

"So the two of you would like to research the history of witchcraft in our family?" The moment her guests had been served with hot chocolate and sandwiches, Mrs. Dunwich got right down to business. Her helpful and attentive nephew hovered close by, filling her crystal glass with a ruby-red liquid that looked like wine.

"Both of us are here to do research," Professor Bradford explained, "but Julia is younger and more energetic, not to mention a bit lighter on her feet. While I study the manuscripts in the library she'll be focusing on grave research and finding the location of the actual supernatural events."

"You mean the _rumored_ supernatural events," Dr. Carlson put in, his blue eyes twinkling. "Julia, my dear, you don't actually expect to uncover any witches, do you?"

"I want to find the exact spot where Reverend Silas Dunwich burned that poor woman at the stake." Julia put down her cup of hot chocolate. "I don't believe in witches, but I know that strange things happened here once. They say that Madge Tarleton's ghost still haunts the hollow where she was . . . where she was burned." Julia shuddered as she pictured the unspeakable evil of the past. She reached instinctively for her hot chocolate.

"Old Madge was a witch," Mrs. Dunwich said, watching as the young girl drained her cup. "She killed the old man's daughter. They say she drained the life and strength from dozens of victims while prolonging her own life for years. You'd be better off staying away from that hollow, my dear. Besides, the paths are hard to find now that the forest has covered every trace of the old village."

"Well, there's no great hurry," Professor Bradford remarked, yawning and sounding much less interested in the field research. "Julia can work with me in the library for a day or two, get some background and a little bit of rest before she ventures outdoors."

"And speaking of rest," said Dr. Carlson, "I think it's time we all retired for the evening. May I show our two visitors to their rooms, Aunt Caroline?"

Instead of answering, Mrs. Dunwich studied the backs of her wrinkled hands. "Drying up," she muttered. Then she looked up, seeming to notice Ben and Julia looking at her with concern. "Yes, yes, it's time for bed. Sweet dreams, my dears!"

"Does your aunt ever go to Boston for medical treatment?" Julia asked, after Ben had shown Professor Bradford to her room.

"I wish she would," Ben said quietly. "But she loves Dunwich Manor and wants to spend the rest of her days here. You'll understand why once you've really gotten to know the old place!"

"I feel like I have already." Julia smiled as she said goodnight to Dr. Carlson, who really seemed like a friend she'd had for years. When she got into bed she wished she had thought of asking him about giving her a tour of the Dunwich land as well as the house. But then again, the dapper doctor didn't exactly seem like the outdoor type! Julia fell asleep wondering if there was anyone at Dunwich Manor who really did know the way to the old hollow. For some reason the angry face and well-muscled form of that rude young gardener came into her mind, but as sleep took hold Julia decided that he was the last person she would ever ask for help.


	2. Gentle Ben

_Chapter Two: Gentle Ben_

"Feeling all right, dear?" Professor Bradford smiled at her youthful assistant in the dim light of the musty old private library.

"I'm fine," Julia replied, quickly covering a yawn. "Tired, I guess." Though she'd been assigned to a very comfortable guestroom in the upper corridors of Dunwich Manor's secluded stillness, the bright young college girl had slept very little the night before. Dreams of being burned as a witch had kept her tossing and turning all night. Yet her dream-filled slumber had also included vivid, strangely sensual images of dark and forbidden pagan rites.

"Perhaps a breath of fresh air," the plump professor suggested, patting her assistant's pale cheek and returning at once to her notes. Julia could see that sensible Professor Bradford wanted to continue her occult studies without any annoying distractions.

It was a dreary day outside, so instead of walking in the garden Julia grabbed her purse and decided to climb the Old North Tower. According to local legend, the pretty young wife of Silas Dunwich had fallen from this very tower, shortly after cruel Silas had burned one of the local witches. Had her death been murder, a tragic accident, or had still darker forces been at work?

"Where do you think you're going?" The growling menace of the guttural words made Julia nearly jump right out of her skin.

"I'm going up to the tower for a breath of air," she replied, feeling foolish and a little breathless already from her short climb.

"You won't make it up six flights, not in them high heels." The hulking brute with the sullen manners and the unshaven face was clearly in much better physical shape than she was. Julia disliked his rudeness, especially the way he kept looking her up and down, staring at her like she was unwanted and out of place.

"You don't like the Dunwich family having visitors, do you?" Julia conquered her fears and boldly met the young man's hostile gaze. His eyes were blue like hers, but a pale blue, in striking contrast to his thick and curly black hair. Really he was quite an attractive young man. But she hated his rude behavior, and his angry words almost frightened her.

"I don't like people looking for trouble. I don't like the family letting strangers pry into things that are better forgotten."

"Well, you may not like it, but it's their house." Without showing her fear or avoiding his eyes, Julia brushed past the young man. She ignored his final words as she headed up the stairs.

"It's not their house, it's my house. And I don't like strangers."

Julia enjoyed the long climb, even though she was tired and thoroughly out of breath by the time she reached the tower. The view was not as spectacular as she would have hoped, for it was a gloomy day and the dark forest stretched to the horizon. Somewhere out there had once been a village, but the paths were overgrown and the settlers had all died shortly after the horrible events of the witch trials. When Julia leaned against the glass and peered into the forest, she felt she could almost see old Madge Tarleton gazing up at Dunwich Manor. Condemned to a fiery death, and gazing up at the house with such hatred . . .

Hurrying back down the stairs, Julia told herself that she would say nothing to Professor Bradford about her foolish impressions. It was ridiculous to imagine there was something sinister about her surroundings! Except for the nasty young handyman with the rude manners and strangely compelling blue eyes, everyone she'd met at Dunwich Manor was absolutely charming. And the house was charming, too, full of Gothic atmosphere and shadows.

"Hey! Hey, let me out!" Back on the ground floor, Julia tugged on the door that led out of the old tower, but for some reason it wouldn't open. She rattled the doorknob, crying for help and growing increasingly frantic as it became clear she was locked in.

"Hello! Why, Julia, my dear, what's the matter?" Dr. Ben Carlson smelled like peppermints and expensive cologne. He opened the door with a look of surprise, laughing as Julia flung herself weeping into his arms.

"Oh, Dr. Carlson, thank heavens! I wasn't . . . I mean I just . . . I mean the door got stuck and I just . . . I just got a little upset."

"There, there, of course you did." Even though he was bald and plump and a bit shorter than she was, the doctor had a way of holding Julia and soothing her that made her feel completely safe. "This house is very old, you know, and even though we pay young Mathew a great deal of money to keep things in repair it's obvious that he doesn't take his work very seriously."

"I don't like him," Julia sniffled, fighting to stop her gushing tears. "When I wanted to climb the stairs he told me it was dangerous!"

"Well, there are better ways to explore Dunwich Manor than wandering off on your own," Dr. Carlson said gently, wiping Julia's tears away with a large and very soft scented handkerchief. "Why don't we both get a cup of cocoa from the kitchen, and then when the day warms up a bit we'll take a walk in the garden and have a nice long chat. Does that sound like a plan, Julia my dear?"

"That sounds like a great plan," Julia said, smiling through her tears as Dr. Carlson carefully dried her face. He was so thoughtful, and so very different from that horrible Matthew. Julia wanted him to tell her all about Dunwich Manor. But at the same time she had to remember what her job was. "Dr. Carlson, I've got to get back to the library . . . Professor Bradford is expecting me."

"Now that's naughty talk, Miss Julia." The smiling older man wagged a gently scolding finger in her face. "Only my patients call me Dr. Carlson. My friends call me Ben. Now let's go have some hot cocoa together. We'll tell the professor its research!"

"All right, Ben." Julia really could have kissed the funny little doctor with the kind eyes and teasing smile. She grabbed her purse from the floor, not realizing until now that she'd dropped it in her frantic struggles with the locked door. Matthew might not want her here, but she was certain that Ben would protect her. And one way or another, she _would_ learn the truth about Dunwich Manor.


	3. Family Dinner

_Chapter Three: Family Dinner_

"I just don't understand how the door could have snapped shut like that." Julia Tyler shuddered as she remembered the strange mishap that had sent her tumbling into the arms of Dr. Carlson. It was evening now, and the wealthy Dunwich clan was dining by candlelight in the ornately furnished parlor.

"Nothing to worry about, my dear," Mrs. Caroline Dunwich declared, noisily sucking the last bit of marrow from a heap of bones on her plate. "The damp New England weather does funny things to the doors and windows of this old house. It's constantly seeping into my poor old bones, no matter how warmly I wrap myself up. If only I could be young again, young again like you!"

"A swollen door frame wouldn't have kept a girl like Julia trapped for long, Aunt Caroline," Dr. Ben Carlson objected, giving the girl seated beside him an admiring glance. "If I hadn't come along in time she would have kicked that old door right off its hinges."

Laughter and approving looks from everyone at the table made Julia feel safe and well-protected. Dr. Carlson was just pouring her a glass of wine when Professor Henrietta Bradshaw spoke up.

"The Old North Tower is where Silas Dunwich murdered his wife, isn't it? It's where he tortured all those other girls, too. The ones who were falsely accused of witchcraft!"

"Ah, but Madge Tarleton really was a witch. She drained the life from all those young girls, seeking to regain her youth and beauty. So of course Silas had to intervene." Mrs. Dunwich gave Henrietta a smug look. The old lady in diamonds and pearls was head of the family, so she always spoke the last word on every subject.

"Mrs. Dunwich, are you a direct descendant of Silas Dunwich?" Julia asked, sipping her wine and starting to feel more at home.

"Hardly, my dear child." Caroline Dunwich smiled as she watched Julia lean back in her chair and drain the ruby-red liquid from her glass. "My grandmother was Ellen O'Flaherty, a nurse from Boston. She cared for old Arthur Dunwich until he died in 1922. And then she inherited everything, this house and all the grounds. He left it to her in the will, you see, just before he died."

"That's so sad. But in a way it's so incredibly romantic!" Julia's wine glass was empty. Her cheeks were flushed, and her dark blue eyes sparkled. She leaned forward, consumed with curiosity. "How did poor old Arthur die? Did your grandmother love him? Were they married? Did they have children?"

"Goodness!" The old woman's wrinkled features took on a look of bitter scorn. "You can't know much about New England, my dear girl, if you imagine the old Puritan families would ever intermarry with the Irish. We were immigrants and foreigners, and _Catholics!_ To them we were the lowest of the low. Why, I can remember . . ."

Ben Carlson refilled Julia's empty glass and then lifted his own. "Aunt Caroline, let's forget the troubling and unpleasant past. Here's to Julia and the future!"

The old woman raised her glass as well. "Of course, Ben dear. You're such a charmer, aren't you? To Julia and the future!"

The next morning, instead of waiting for Julia in the family library, Professor Bradford greeted her assistant in the main hallway.

"You were quite a success last night," the older woman said, her shrewd gray eyes twinkling yet touched with a hint of jealousy. "Did you sleep well? No nightmares about the family witch trials?"

"No, I slept soundly and don't remember anything like that!" Julia felt like a fool. The sun was high and she had clearly overslept. "Do you need me to type up your notes from yesterday?"

"No need, I've already taken care of that." Professor Bradford laughed and patted Julia's cheek. "Don't worry! You're quite a smashing success as my assistant. But this morning while you were still asleep, Caroline Dunwich and I had our coffee together in the library. She suggested that a day off from deep historical research might do you good. The Dunwich family is planning a picnic. Would you enjoy a trip into town and a little shopping?"

"Oh, yes!" Julia couldn't resist giving her academic advisor a hug. The two women strolled outside together, with Professor Bradford joking away about picnics in freezing weather and even wrapping her arm around Julia's slender waist. The air really had turned rather chilly all of a sudden. But there was no cause for worry. The sun was shining, and a long and luxurious-looking black limousine was waiting to take them into town. And then Julia caught sight of the great big brute sitting behind the wheel, his huge paws impatiently beckoning to the two of them.

"Get in, ladies," Matthew grunted. "We've got a lot to do today."


	4. The Outsiders

_Chapter Four: The Outsiders_

"It's just a cold, a bad cold," Julia Tyler insisted, sitting up in bed and noisily blowing her nose. "I'll be better in a day or two."

"I could kill that brute Matthew," Professor Bradford grumbled, watching as her research assistant sneezed into a handkerchief. "That was no accident. He meant to drown you, I'm sure. Imagine shoving a girl like you into that icy water for no reason at all!

"Not Matthew's fault," Julia croaked, as she sank back against the pillows. "My foot slipped, that's all. Not sick, really! Need rest."

"Yes, of course." The heavily built lady professor rose from her chair. Julia heard her muttering as she left the room. "I don't know how I'll finish those witness statements. We've barely scratched the surface of the evidence presented at the witch trials!"

The old house was quiet in the late afternoon. Julia groaned, struggling to get comfortable in the huge, creaky old-fashioned bed. She wanted to recover quickly, to get right back to work on her important research. But her sore throat, aching head and sniffles made it hard to fall asleep.

And strange thoughts kept nagging her.

Had Matthew really meant to shove her into the water? All through the Dunwich family picnic, Julia had felt his eyes on her. Even as she sipped champagne and laughed her head off at Dr. Ben Carlson's rather naughty jokes, or listened spellbound to Aunt Caroline's tales of long-ago wealth and splendor, Julia could sense the stern disapproval of the silent, hulking, brooding young man who both was and wasn't a part of the Dunwich family. He didn't want her here. Julia could feel it right down to her toes. He didn't want her here at all!

"But isn't Silas Dunwich buried with the rest of the family? I thought the family burial ground was here on the manor!" Julia remembered downing her champagne and turning to Ben Carlson with avid interest, her voice husky and a little breathless.

"The old man hung himself," said a deep voice. "After his wife died, he became an outcast. Guilt got to him. He's buried in the woods across the lake." Matthew's shadow fell over the lively group on the picnic blanket, just like a cloud blocking the sun.

"I'd really like to see his grave," Julia announced, stiffly ignoring Matthew and smiling warmly at Dr. Carlson. "Perhaps we could learn more about the witch trials and the fall of Dunwich Manor."

Of course it wasn't Ben's fault that he declined to accompany her. Confined to a wheelchair, Aunt Caroline preferred to keep him close at all times. Somewhat to her surprise, Matthew offered to serve as a guide instead, and Julia couldn't say no to him. Otherwise he might think she was afraid of the dark woods!

"The old man's buried in there," Matt told her, after a long walk, pointing to a patch of thorns and tangled grass. There was no tombstone. A dead tree stood sentry like a skeleton. "No-one ever visits. He was the one who destroyed the Indian village. He had his own wife burned as a witch. And then he hung himself."

"I wonder if Silas Dunwich blamed himself for all the evil that took place here," Julia said thoughtfully. She looked at Matthew, sensing something of a connection between the silent, hulking young man and the ancient Puritan magistrate. "You think the Dunwich family is cursed, don't you?"

"I think you're a genius at poking into things that are none of your business," Matthew replied, looking down at her with a sort of grudging admiration. "You're a smart girl and you like to ask questions. Around here, that's dangerous."

"Asking questions is the best way to get to the truth," Julia said sharply. Matthew looked at her. She thought he might kiss her. But instead he said he knew a shortcut back to Dunwich Manor.

Getting back was harder than going out. Matthew's shortcut turned out to be a detour, taking them into a low, swampy area, very different from the clear blue waters of the lake. "Here's where they say the witches met, the ones that poisoned Silas' wife. You can hear them whispering when the wind is right."

"_Humph!_ I thought she was hung as a witch!" Julia didn't believe that nonsense for a minute. She felt certain that Silas had hung all those women for no reason, even poor old Madge Tarleton, who foolishly boasted of her skill with poisons, spells, and potions. Still, it was no fun listening to the swamp grass rustling and feeling that there were things watching her. She felt as though Matthew was hurrying her, and without meaning to she sped up a little to keep up, still holding tightly to his hand.

That was when she fell into the water, but as she lay in bed thinking about it now Julia couldn't get it straight in her mind. Had she really fallen, or had Matthew somehow tugged her off balance? There had been something behind them, something in the tall grass. She felt positive she hadn't imagined it!

Yet when she fell into the water and Matthew pulled her out, all she felt was wet and foolish. And the next day she woke up with a dreadful cold, and she missed her morning meeting with Professor Bradford in the library. And now all that important research was going on without her . . .

Julia wanted to sleep, but all she could do was toss and turn. And when she dozed she experienced ghastly dreams.

Slimy weeds entwined her, pulling her into the swamp. Clutching hands kept rising from the earth to trip her. Graves gaped open like hungry mouths as she stood paralyzed with horror. The worst part was making it to safety and falling into Matthew's arms and kissing him, only to discover that he was really Silas Dunwich, an ancient accursed horror with the rotted face of a corpse!

"Knock-knock, anybody awake in there?" cried a cheerful voice.

"Huh?" Julia felt so awful she almost hated to open her eyes. But when she did she felt better at once. Dr. Carlson had come to visit her, carrying a small tray with a steaming cup of tea.

"This is a home remedy," he explained, sitting down on the side of the bed. "The truth is, it's better than anything I could prescribe. They call it Bitterroot Tea."

"Ugh!" Julia made a face as she drank. "It's bitter, all right. Tastes like water from the swamp!"

"And you should know," Ben Carlson teased. His blue eyes were twinkling as he watched Julia drink her tea. "I think it was a dirty trick, Matthew luring you all the way out there, just to trip you up. The rotten lout probably hoped you'd drown!"

"He said Silas Dunwich felt bad about people turning on him. It's almost like he blamed himself for what the witches did to his wife." Julia closed her eyes, sipping the bitter tea. She hated the taste, but as she drank a little more she felt slightly better. A rich, soothing warmth seemed to ease away all her aches and sniffles. "Maybe Matthew feels like an outsider too."

"Matthew could have been a Dunwich," Ben Carlson said quietly. "But he chose not to be. And that's entirely his fault."

"How could that be his fault?" Julia wanted to ask more questions, but Dr. Ben Carlson insisted that she finish her tea. Julia drained her cup to the last drop, meaning to dig further after some rest. Ben tucked her in, joking that a beauty needed her beauty sleep. Julia felt a kiss on her cheek, smiled, then fell into deep slumber.


	5. The Horned God

_Chapter Five: The Horned God_

"But Professor Bradford, here's the part I don't get." After a few days or rest, Julia had largely recovered from her cold. She was feeling much better and was eating lunch from a tray in bed. "Ever since I came here, that hired hand Matthew has been telling me I'm in danger. Dunwich Manor is evil! Leave before it's too late!"

"That sounds like him, all right." Henrietta Bradford chuckled at the way her lively female assistant captured Matthew's deep, brooding voice and gloomy scowl. "Julia, my love, try not to _wolf_ down your ham and eggs. You'll make yourself ill!"

"I can't help it! I had no appetite for days, and now I'm _starving__!_" Julia made the professor laugh by mopping up her eggs in record time. She kept feeling like she could eat an entire elephant. "So here's what I don't get. If Matthew wanted to get rid of me, why did he shove me in the water at the family picnic? I mean, my getting sick would only keep us around when he wants us to leave. And if he wanted to, you know, get rid of me for real . . ."

"Then he could have drowned you in the swamp."

"Well, yes. I guess that's what I mean." Julia shuddered, picturing her lifeless body floating in the murky water.

"Perhaps when he pushed you in the water, he was trying to keep you from seeing something on shore." Professor Bradford poured Julia a fresh cup of tea. "Or perhaps you simply slipped and fell."

"I know I felt him grab at me." Julia frowned as she sipped her tea. The old-fashioned bitterroot mixture had done wonders for her sniffles and her sore throat. But she couldn't seem to remember exactly what had happened when she fell into the water. Had Matthew meant to shove her or was he merely trying to steady her when his big hands suddenly encircled her slender waist? Certainly she had sensed _something_ lurking in the tall grass . . .

"Well, whatever happened, there's no need to worry. We won't let anything happen to you. Now I must get back to my research."

"Don't you want me to take notes for you? That's my job!" Feeling restless, Julia wiggled her bare feet under the velvet bed covers.

"No need, dearest." Professor Bradford picked up the tray and the tea things. "You just stay in bed and rest. Try to get a little sleep. Another day or two and you'll feel good as new!"

"But I feel good as new right now!"

"Ah, but you'll feel even better after a little snooze." Professor Bradford laughed heartily as she left, shutting the bedroom door firmly behind her.

Julia didn't like the idea of lying in bed all afternoon. She picked up some of the notes she'd copied a week ago, the ones about the witch trials from long ago. Silas Dunwich didn't seem to care whether the accused women were young or old, pretty or ugly. He only cared if they had ventured into the swamp to meet in secret and offer themselves to the Horned God. He was tall, and strong, with a dark, scowling countenance and a deep, growling voice. When he called the witches into his presence they shed their clothes willingly and danced before him. Dancing just for him . . .

Towards the end of the afternoon Dr. Ben dropped by just to see how his patient was feeling. His visit cheered Julia up right away, even though she felt foolish about being so oblivious to his arrival.

"Henrietta says you're getting bored and feeling cooped up indoors." Dapper Ben was smiling as he took her pulse and blood pressure, his hands cool, gently probing her wrist and arm.

"Huh?" Julia remembered chatting with the professor after lunch. And she remembered rereading her notes, something about the Horned God and his power over the witches who danced before him. It had felt so real, as though Matthew was the Horned God and she was the witch. But maybe she'd dreamed that part. She'd been asleep all afternoon.

"Something tells me you need a breath of fresh air." Ben was smiling at her, his blue eyes twinkling as he put away his medical kit.

"Yeah, I think you're right." Julia shook her head, determined to get rid of her grogginess and the feeling that something had happened to her while she was asleep.


End file.
